


somewhere it hides a well

by kaithartic (bluedreaming), tinybitsoflight (bluedreaming)



Series: all the stars were laughing [1]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, briefly implied past character abuse (does not involve any children), implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/kaithartic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/tinybitsoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At night, the rain mixes with the sound of his father crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere it hides a well

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Malay for writing about the rain and giving me this idea in the first place. Thank you to everyone who helped and encouraged me when I started writing. A huge thank you to Lonio for hearing me out and helping me unravel my memories of a plot into actual structure, and an enormous thank you to Adele for being the bestest beta ever and helping me untangle the results.
> 
> Listen to this [rain falling](http://www.rainymood.com) while you read this.
> 
> _There is a moment in this story where, due to the restrictions of the narrative point of view, I’ll ask you to suspend your disbelief and imagine, from the other characters’ perceptions, why something is so._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_"What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well..."_  
―[Antoine de Saint-Exupéry](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/17758),  The Little Prince

  
  
  
  
  
  


He twists open the door knob with chubby hands and tiptoes down the dark hallway, tiny footsteps drowned out by the heavy sound of the rain. He can hear his father crying.  
  
It's dark in the kitchen, the only light coming from the tree-obscured streetlight, branches battered by the wind outside. His father is sitting curled up on a chair, water pouring down his face in a steady flow that his limp fingers have long stopped trying to stem.  
  
"Dad, why are you crying?"  
  
Sehun's voice is only a whisper in the night. He's scared and confused and the thunder outside only serves to heighten his anxiety. He lifts small hands to his father's legs, gently trying to pat the sad away like Mommy used to do.  
  
But Mommy isn't here anymore.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain's still falling when the faint sunlight trickles in through his window. He's in bed, tucked warmly under the quilt.  
  
_How did I get here?_  
  
He's rubbing his tired eyes with small fists when he realizes he can't hear Dad crying anymore. Suddenly panicked, he flails his small limbs, trying to extricate himself from the sudden tangle of fabric, but only succeeding in tangling himself further into the mess. Overwhelmed, he begins to wail softly.  
  
There's a soft rustling from the room next door and his father enters the room, hair sticking up at the back and pajamas askew, but Sehun is so relieved to see him that his sobs only grow louder.  
  
"Shhh, shhh, don't cry," Dad soothes him, folding the small boy in his arms and rocking him back and forth. "Everything is okay."  
  
Sehun looks up at his father with a tear-streaked face. Dad is smiling, but his eyes are still red. He reaches up to touch his father's cheek.  
  
"If Sehun can't cry then Dad can't cry either," he says, prodding tiny fingers at his father's puffy eyes. Dad smiles, but it's crooked, not like it used to be. Sehun settles for giving his father a big hug. He doesn't know what else to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's still raining after breakfast, when they have to leave. Sehun puts on his big yellow rubber boots with the duck toes, because he loves to splash in the puddles. Dad puts on his big boring black boots, and takes his hand as they walk out into the wet day.  
  
Dad likes to walk under the umbrella, because his jacket isn't a very good one and he doesn't want to get wet. Sehun likes his shiny yellow raincoat with a big hood that covers his head much more than any black leather boring grown-up raincoat, and he likes to run ahead of his father and jump and dance in the rain and make giant splashes with his rubber duck boots. But today, looking up at his father's face, he remembers the sounds in the night and puffy eyes in the morning. He holds tightly onto Dad's hand and leads him onwards to the kindergarten. He doesn't want his father to get lost in the rain.  
  
At the door, Sehun gives Dad a big hug before waving him off. He watches the tall silhouette of his father disappearing into the rain, stooped shoulders sad under the umbrella, and there's a sob that wants to choke his throat but he won't cry. Dad said not to, and Sehun doesn't want his father to be sad anymore.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Where's your mommy?"  
  
Sehun looks up from the flowers he's tracing in the sand bin. Dad likes flowers, and he wishes he could give him some. Maybe he would smile then, like he used to smile at Mommy's flower garden in the back. A real smile. Sehun had been grinning, thinking about it, but now that happiness has been dashed to the floor by the cold water bucket of his classmate's words.  
  
Sehun looks up, frowning, but Zitao's eyes are only widely curious. Sehun knows he doesn't mean anything bad. Zitao is the one who cries when he wakes up after nap time because he had a good dream, and cowers whimpering under the table when there's a thunderstorm. He wants to smile at Zitao, who looks ready to cry at Sehun's dark expression, but he can't. He looks down at his hands again, smudging the flowers back into mounds of sand.  
  
"She went away," he says quietly.  
  
Zitao looks scared, but his mouth opens anyway to ask another question.  
  
"Where did she go?" His voice comes out as barely a whisper.  
  
Sehun feels an inexplicable desire to smash his fists into the sand bin, feel the satisfying crunch under his fists and see the sand flying everywhere in the air. But he's a good boy for Dad. Because he doesn't want his father to be sad.  
  
"Dad said she's in the sky, and the ground, and my heart," he finally says, shoulders hunched. "But we went to visit her in a little box on the wall." He doesn't understand this, _how can Mommy be in the sky and a box in the wall at the same time?_ but he doesn't want to ask and risk making his father sadder.  
  
"But why did she go away?" Zitao's voice is barely a breath of air over his tongue. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and Sehun finds himself walking around the sand bin to give his sensitive friend a hug.  
  
"I don't know." His throat closes over the words, and the two little boys just stand there by the sand bin, crying, before the kindergarten worker, Miss Kang, comes over to see what's wrong.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's still raining when it's time for Dad to come and pick him up. Sehun sits nicely on the bench, kicking his heels quietly against the metal bar. He has his rubber duck boots on already and his jacket too. He want to show Dad that he's a good little boy, so maybe Dad won't be sad anymore.  
  
He sits, and waits, and kicks his heels quietly. Other mothers and fathers come one by one to pick up the other children; he waves at Zitao with a friendly smile on his face as the little black-haired boy is led away by his tall pretty mother in a red coat and heels.  
  
It's getting dark, and Miss Kang has come to sit beside Sehun on the bench. She offers him some crackers for a snack, because it's a bit late and he hasn't had any supper yet, of course. Sehun shakes his head. _Dad's coming soon._  
  
Miss Kang, seeing that Sehun doesn't want the crackers, goes to the office for a while, after telling him not to run anywhere and get wet. Sehun nods along. Of course he's going to be a good boy and wait for Dad. He hears muffled voices coming from the office, _grown-up stuff_ , and keeps sitting nicely, quietly kicking his heels against the metal bar.  
  
"Are you thirsty, Sehun?" Miss Kang asks, coming back out of the office to offer him a juice box. He **is** thirsty. Sehun nods, taking the box as he happily sips orange juice from the straw. _I'm sure Dad will be here any minute now._  
  
Finally he sees the approaching silhouette of a person in the rain, and jumps up happily, juice box forgotten on the bench. _I knew he was coming!_  
  
But as the figure gradually approaches, Sehun's excited expression falls. It's not his father after all; it's Mr. Byun who works with Dad at the office. He remembers stopping by the workplace sometimes with Mommy, and Mr. Byun would ruffle his hair and sneak him candy when his mother wasn't looking. He doesn't really like candy; he's always preferred the mild sweetness of bubble tea or ice cream; but the thrill of not having permission always gave the illicit treat an extra zing.  
  
His mouth doesn't taste sweet anymore as he looks up at Mr. Byun who's talking to Miss Kang in hushed tones. His tongue is still sour from the orange juice, and his empty tummy growls uncomfortably, but the grown-ups are too busy whispering to notice. Sehun tugs at Mr. Byun's sleeve.  
  
"Where's Dad?" The sound of his small voice is drowned out by the rain. No one hears, and Sehun feels a small knot of fear twisting itself in the bottom of his empty stomach.  
  
After a few more moments of solemn murmuring, Miss Kang turns to Sehun, crouching down and taking his small trembling hands in her soft fingers.  
  
"Mr. Byun's going to take you home, okay?" She smiles at him reassuringly, but Sehun can see the concern in her eyes. The same concern that's been in all of the adults' eyes since his mother went away. He frowns, and his bottom lips trembles slightly despite his best efforts to the contrary.  
  
"Your Dad is okay, Sehun." Mr. Byun has crouched down as well; he's now eye-level with the small boy and nods reassuringly. "He just has a bit of a cold so we thought he should go home early to give him a rest."  
  
Sehun wants to believe Mr. Byun's gentle smile, but he sees his furrowed brow and slightly pinched expression and doesn't feel any better. But he knows Mr. Byun's only doing his best, so he pats his father's coworker lightly on the arm and nods.  
  
"Okay!" he says with his best attempt at a cheery smile. It seems to do the trick, and soon he and Mr. Byun are hurrying home in the rain.  
  
They stop at a restaurant along the way because Mr. Byun explains that Dad is resting and has already eaten; Sehun would rather just have bubble tea and get home to see his father more quickly, but the adult insists on stopping for a bite. Sehun compromises by wolfing down his hamburger, only stopping to drink his juice when he sees that Mr. Byun is eating more slowly.  
  
Despite Sehun's sense of urgency, the adult finishes his meal at what seems to the small boy to be a snail's pace. When they finally get up and leave, Sehun almost drags the adult down the street.  
  
He wants to see his father right away when he gets home but Mr. Byun insists that he get ready for bed instead and tucks him in before leaving.  
  
"Your Dad's really tired so we'll just let him sleep right now okay?" Mr. Byun says before turning out the light. Sehun waits until he hears the front door shut with a click before bounding out of bed to check on his father.  
  
But when he slides the door open a crack, he can see his father huddled in a tangle of blankets at the edge of the bed, backlit by the dim light of the water-veiled streetlight outside the window. Over the noise of the rain falling, he can hear the muffled sound of sobs.  
  
Sehun wants to go in and give his Dad a hug, but his feet are reluctant and instead he sits, curled up beside the door, listening to the evidence of his father's sadness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's still raining when Sehun blinks open his eyes. He's lying in bed again, quilt tucked in around his small frame.  
  
_Wasn't I just in the hallway?_  
  
He quickly crawls out of bed, forgetting to put on slippers in his rush down the hallway to his father's room where he stops, frozen, in the doorway. The bed is made neatly and the room is empty. Heart thumping in his small chest, Sehun turns and rushes back the other way to the kitchen, not knowing what to expect.  
  
_Did Dad go away too?_  
  
His eyes are beginning to water when he reaches the kitchen, and he stops in surprise at the sight of his father making their lunches.  
  
"Good morning Sehun." His father smiles at him before putting the last lid on the lunch box. He doesn't say anything about last night, and Sehun doesn't mention the dark shadows under his father's eyes. The questions feel heavy on his tongue but he swallows them down like vitamin pills, the flavour on his tongue bitter.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The view is still obscured by the rain when Dad drops him off at school. Sehun waves goodbye to his father before neatly hanging his yellow raincoat on the hook and neatly lining his rubber fuck boots up underneath.  
  
Zitao comes in and Sehun rushes over.  
  
"Do you want to paint flowers with me today?" Sehun is excited because he's going to do something to cheer Dad up. Zitao nods happily.  
  
"Okay!" he readily agrees. "I like pretty flowers."  
  
They spend the morning with watercolours and easels, dabbing strokes of bright colour on paper while the rain drones on overhead. Zitao likes blues and greens and he paints the park across the street from the kindergarten, where they go sometimes for picnics when it’s not raining. He adds flowers in tiny splashes of white and yellow like daisies. Sehun prefers brighter colours, and he decides to draw the florist shop next to the library where he used to go with Mommy, so many stories lining the shelves in splashes of colour and promises of different worlds. They would always stop and admire the flowers on the way home, and usually end up buying a pretty bouquet to tuck into a vase on the table.  
  
Sehun stands back and smiles, looking at his picture. _This will make you happy, Dad, just like Mommy’s flowers._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun waves Zitao cheerfully off at the end of the day, the black-haired boy happily carrying his painted flowers in the knapsack on his back as a present for his mother. It isn't long before he sees his father approaching, a tall silhouette protected by the dry circle of a blue umbrella.  
  
Sehun can barely contain his enthusiasm, hopping from one leg to another as he watches his father's slow approach. He’s weaving around the puddles that cover the sidewalk.  
  
"Look Dad!" he shouts as soon as his father is close enough to see him. He waves his flower-covered paper in his hands, excited about the prospect of seeing Dad with a real smile on his face.  
  
His father is almost at the roofed overhang when a sudden gust of wind snatches the paper from Sehun's grasp and sends it spinning out into the rain before dropping it abruptly in a deep puddle, where he watches it sink slowly into the water, the bright colours leaching out and smudging together to make a sad browny-grey.  
  
Sehun looks up at his father with tears in his eyes. _I really wanted to make you smile, Dad._ He whimpers instead, biting his lip to stop the tears from falling, but a big drop still manages to slip out of one eyes and roll down his face to his chin.  
  
His father crouches down quickly to enfold him in his warm arms. Sehun buries his face into the water-flecked leather of his father's jacket, the raindrops mixing with the errant tears on his face.  
  
"It's okay, Sehun," his father murmurs comfortingly as he gently pats the small boy's back. Sehun feels the tight knot in his throat loosen just a bit, but he still feels the need to get an apology off of his tiny chest. _It was supposed to make you smile, Dad._  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispers into his father's ear. "I wanted to draw you flowers like Mommy's flowers so you can smile again." He hears the sudden catch in his father's throat, and that little reminder of his father's pain is enough to send the child over the edge into wailing cries. _I'm sorry, Dad, you didn't want me to cry._. Sehun crushes his face deep into his father's chest for one last comforting whiff of leather before pulling back, rubbing his streaming eyes with small fists.  
  
Dad's eyes are still too bright with wet, but he ruffles Sehun's hair with a big, warm hand before sliding the yellow hood over his head, and together they walk hand-in-hand out into the rain.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun wakes up suddenly. It's still dark, and the sound of the rain still fills the heavy air. _Is there something wrong?_ He's rubbing his sleepy eyes when he hears a choked sob coming from the kitchen. Carefully, he pushes the quilt off and slips his feet into fuzzy slippers before softly padding down the hall into the shadowed kitchen.  
  
Dad is curled up on a chair, arms wrapped around his knees. He looks like he's trying to hold himself together, like the rubber bands they use at kindergarten to keep the crayons and markers from getting lost. _I think Dad is lost._  
  
Sehun's doing his best to find him again but he's just a little boy and he doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. _Maybe I have to be like Mommy when I used to have a nightmare and woke up crying._  
  
He drags his little bench over to the cabinet to get his favourite purple cup and then drags the bench over to the tap so he can fill it with water. He takes this small offering over to his father, lightly touching his ankle to get his attention before lifting up the cup.  
  
Dad looks at him with wide, tear-filled eyes before gently taking the cup and drinking a long sip, finishing with a rattling sigh. He sets it down on the table with a soft clink of porcelain on wood.  
  
"Thank you," he says, his voice quiet, barely audible above the sound of the rain, but Sehun understands.  
  
Sehun falls asleep that night wrapped in his father's arms. It's warm and safe in the big double bed, _Mommy used to sleep here_ , and he pretends not to notice when the back of his pajama top gets wet from Dad's tears.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Zitao is all happy and bouncy the next day because he gave his mother the watercolour flowers and made her smile.  
  
"And she even put it up on the fridge!" he exclaims happily, jumping up and down.  
  
Even though he's sad about what happened with his painting, Sehun can't help but smile at his friend's joy. He gives him a big hug before they run off to play in the toy kitchen, because it's still raining and they can't go outside.  
  
When Dad comes to pick him up, they stop for bubble tea on the way home, sipping tapioca pearls happily from the colourful straws as Sehun splashes through puddles in his yellow duck boots and his father manages to avoid getting wet.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's dark, and the raindrops are hitting his window and streaming down the glass, sending a waterfall of wavering light from the street lamp onto the wall beside his bed. Sehun can hear muffled sobs from the next room. He quietly untangles his feet from the sheets and pads over on small slipper-clad feet down the hallway, softly pushing open the heavy door.  
  
His father is curled up in a ball at the edge of the bed, face against the wall. Sehun kicks off his slippers and neatly lines them up at the side before climbing up onto mattress and curling himself into his father's arms. Dad doesn't seem surprised to see him, only wrapping his arms around the small boy and burrowing his tear-streaked face into the small boy's shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Zitao isn't at kindergarten today. Miss Kang says that he was playing outside in the rain when he wasn't supposed to and got a cold, and that everyone must be a good little boy or girl and listen to instructions.  
  
Sehun giggles at the thought. Zitao is a good boy; he probably just wanted to surprise his mother with a hand-picked bouquet of flowers or something. _I'll ask him tomorrow._  
  
The rain is falling particularly hard when Sehun puts on his big yellow raincoat and skips his small feet into his shiny rubber duck boots. Dad comes in his leather jacket and umbrella and Sehun waves to Miss Kang as he walks away, his other hand wrapped comfortingly up in his father's big hand.  
  
Dad gets a phone call from the office so he's trailing behind, murmuring on his cellphone while Sehun runs ahead to play hopscotch with the puddles on the sidewalk. His boots make satisfying splashing noises, sending droplets of water up to tickle his cheeks and hands as he jumps along the concrete.  
  
Suddenly a familiar sound catches his attention. _Someone is crying._ Sehun glances back quickly at his father but he's still busy on the phone. He walks carefully forward, keeping his ears peeled and his eyes wide open, and it's only a couple of steps further when he notices a small alley, more of an opening really, between two buildings.  
  
Sehun peers tentatively around the corner, and it takes him a moment to adjust his eyes to the dim light. There's a person huddled against the wall of the building, soaked in the rain and shivering. He can't see the person's face because it's tucked into their knees, but the bony shoulders are shaking with the sound of sobbing, something he recognizes all too well.  
  
Sehun glances back at his father who's still approaching at a snail's pace, between talking on the phone and skirting the puddles with his shoes. He looks back at the person in the alley, and sees that their feet are bare, toes curled in with the cold. He makes up his mind.  
  
Slowly approaching the stranger, he reaches out a small hand to gently brush a trembling knee. The person starts at the contact, lifting up wild eyes filled with fear. _It's a man. But he's not as old as Dad._  
  
Sehun, small brow furrowed in concentration, looks deep into the young man's dark eyes. He's only a little boy, but he's begun to learn a little bit too much about sadness and despair in the last while. The look in the other's eyes is the look of the starving puppy that he saw in a box at the side of the road the last time the kindergarten went on a field trip to the playground, before it began to rain. The puppy had been gone the next time they'd gone past, and Miss Kang had said that someone kind had probably taken it home, because soft-hearted Zitao had been crying. But Sehun had seen her look away as she said it.  
  
Sehun looks at the young man. He doesn't want him to go away, like mommy did. He sets his little jaw, mind made up.  
  
He can hear the voice of his father, bidding the person on the other end of the phone call farewell, before looking around for his son.  
  
"Sehun? Where are you?"  
  
Sehun steps out of the small alley, and approaches his father you looks at him with a sigh of relief, bending down to poke him lightly on the nose.  
  
"You shouldn’t run ahead like that," he admonishes him gently. "I didn't know where you were."  
  
Sehun has no intention of beating around the bush.  
  
"You remember, before Mommy went away?" he says, and sees the dark cloud descending over his father's eyes again. Rushing on, he continues, "Dad, you said that I could get a puppy, right?"  
  
"Yes?" His father only looks at him, bemused.  
  
"You promised," Sehun says firmly, his little chin steady.  
  
Taking his father by the hand, he leads him around the corner to stand in front of the young man who, seeing the tall figure of his father, only cowers flatter against the wall.  
  
"I want this one," Sehun says. He stands strong, and he’s holding his ground against his father's complete bewilderment, but his lower lip is beginning to tremble. He can see the coming refusal in his father's eyes.  
  
"But Sehun," his father begins, and that simple conjunction is enough for the small boy to burst into tears, clinging to his father's arm.  
  
"He's like the puppy - the puppy in the box that disappeared," Sehun manages to gasp out between sobs. "I don't want him to go away like Mommy did."  
  
His father bends down with a confused sigh to wrap the wailing boy in his arms. Just then, a streak of lightning illuminates the gloomy sky, and a loud crash of thunder sounds overhead.  
  
The young man cowering in the rain gives a small frightened cry and buries his head in his arms, the water pooling in his mop of sandy curls now trickling down to join the puddle around his feet. Between tears, Sehun eyes his father hopefully. _Dad looks like he's thinking._ Despite his sobs, the right side of the small boy's mouth lifts up into a tiny smile as he holds his breath.  
  
Dad's shoulders stiffen for a moment before he sighs. _Yes!_ Sehun cranes his head around to see what his father will do. Dad clears his throat.  
  
"Excuse me," he says awkwardly. The young man freezes, and Sehun can see a scared eye peering from between wet curls.  
  
"Do you have a place to go?" His father is still crouching on the ground, hugging the small boy, and his tall stature must be less intimidating because the young man raises his head, eyes hopeless and bloodshot.  
  
Sehun can feel his father take in a sharp breath. He pats Dad comfortingly on the back.  
  
"Can he come home with us?" he asks hopefully. Dad looks at him for a moment before sighing and turning his attention back to the young man, who looks bemused and lost at the sudden turn of events.  
  
"Would you like to come home with us?" he says awkwardly, but his voice is warm. Sehun looks at the young man. His eyes dart back and forth, frightened, like he's trying to comprehend this strange situation, but the presence of a small child seems to reassure him. He's nodding his head timidly, hands on the pavement about to get up, when a sudden crack of lightning appears directly overhead with an accompanying explosion of thunder. He cries out in fear and falls over--right into Sehun's father's arms, head cradled in his chest as massive sobs wrack his gaunt frame.  
  
Dad is confused but his parenting instincts take over and he enfolds the young man, along with Sehun, in a warm hug.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It had taken a while for the stranger in the alley to calm down enough so they could walk home, and even then, the young man's obvious uncertainty caused him to trail far behind Sehun and his father. After looking back from where he was splashing happily through puddles, swinging hands with his father, to see the young man almost half a block behind and limping because of his bare feet, Sehun got fed up and dragged his father back so that Sehun could hold the stranger's hand as well.  
  
Now they're standing in the entrance, Dad looking uncertain and the young man looking scared and Sehun has had enough of adults. He leaves the two silly grown-ups looking like confused penguins and goes and hunts out a towel from Mommy's linen closet, taking it to the bathroom and turning on the water for the bathtub before rejoining them on small but determined legs.  
  
"You should take a bath," he says to the young man, taking him by the hand and leading him along to the bathroom. When the door is shut he turns to Dad who has followed aimlessly behind.  
  
"You can find him some clothes to wear and then we can make supper," the small boy orders his father, who looks amused but goes off to the bedroom to do what he has been asked to do.  
  
By the time they're all sitting at the table, eating supper and listening to the rain which continues to fall overhead, Sehun has decided that he'll have to be in charge. _He is kind of my job anyway, because I asked._  
  
"What's your name?" he asks politely, before sipping a spoonful of soup. The young man looks warily at Dad but seems to feel no immediate threat at least.  
  
"I'm—I'm Jongin," he mumbles into his bowl.  
  
"I'm Sehun," the small boy says cheerfully. He looks at his father, who still doesn't seem to have grasped the situation. He’s doing too much staring at the young man sitting at his table eating soup, and not enough eating of his own meal, spoon held forgotten in his limp grasp. Sehun frowns. _Mommy doesn't approve of playing with food._  
  
"And this is my Dad," he continues, giving his father a gentle but firm nudge with his foot. He jumps, giving Sehun a startled look, before dipping his spool quickly into the soup bowl.  
  
"I'm Yifan," his father says awkwardly, distractedly swirling his spoon through the hot broth. "You can call me Kris though, if you want."  
  
Jongin nods, flicking his eyes up to Dad's face before dropping them down to gaze into the depths of his food. Sehun is interested to notice that there's a faintly concerned expression in his eyes before they're obscured again by his tangled, but now clean and dry, mop of curly hair. _I'll have to ask Zitao about it tomorrow. I hope he isn't still sick._  
  
Since Jongin is sleeping in his bed, Sehun curls happily into his father's arms that night and drifts off to sleep, the sound of the rain on the roof a soothing lullaby to sweeten his dreams.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's dark. Sehun wakes up to the sound of crying over the continuously falling rain outside. His first instinct is to look at Dad, but one glance is enough to see that he's fast asleep and his cheeks are dry. Pushing aside his father's heavy arm, the small boy slips out of the warm embrace and tiptoes over to his old bedroom.  
  
Jongin is twisted up in a tangle of sheets, one foot fallen out of bed to scrape the floor as he sobs bitterly into his pillow. Sehun watches him for a moment before padding over on silent slipper-clad feet to Mommy's linen closet to pull out her special crocheted afghan, the one that she used to wrap him up in when he had a nightmare, singing lullabies and rocking him to sleep. That was before she went away. Now the afghan has been sitting, folded up in her linen closet, and Sehun thinks it's time to use it again.  
  
Arms full of soft wool, the small boy approaches the weeping man and gently wraps the afghan around him as best he can. As soon as Sehun's small arms make contact with Jongin's shaking frame the young man freezes, but as small hands continue to gently tuck the crocheted blanket around him, he turns his head, blinking back tears, to look at the young child. Sehun can see the hurt in Jongin's eyes, the vulnerability, and he answers his unspoken question.  
  
"You're safe here," Sehun whispers, and reaches over to give the sad and broken man a big hug. Jongin cries into his chest while Sehun pats his back soothingly over the thick layer of wool.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Breakfast is a little awkward but Sehun is just happy that, for once, Dad doesn't seem to have cried all night. He gets a cereal bowl out for Jongin and kindly pours the milk into the cornflakes for him, since the young man is sitting at the table looking a little awkward and out of place as he watches Sehun rush around the kitchen. He looks like he wants to help.  
  
Dad isn't doing much better, distractedly wandering around the kitchen, picking things up and then placing them down again, even though Sehun has already made the sandwiches for their lunches and everything is ready to go. _At least Jongin is sitting properly at the table_ , though he’s not eating.  
  
"Sit down, Dad," Sehun says, tugging at his father’s sleeve and steering him into a seat. When they’re all sitting, Jongin gives Sehun a small smile as he scoops cereal onto his spoon and takes a bite. Sehun smiles back, and scoops a spoon of his own cereal. He misses his mouth, just a little, and mops the milk off his chin with his sleeve. He giggles, and Jongin’s smile gets bigger.  
  
It feels like a prize; Sehun feels so happy this morning, somehow, kicking his heels against the rungs of the chair. There are three people sitting at the table instead of two.  
  
Jongin sets down his spoon, the metal making a faint ‘ding’ when it hits the porcelain. "Can I borrow your phone?" he asks. He sounds hesitant again, biting his lip.  
  
"Yup!" Sehun is quick to agree, bouncing out of his seat to fetch the phone from the cradle on the counter. Jongin pats him on the head when he hands it to him, and Sehun wonders who Jongin is calling, but he knows better than to ask. Mommy always told him it was important to respect other people’s privacy.  
  
"Hi, Chanyeol?" Jongin says, when the line connects. He’s still sitting at the table, turned away towards the hall; Sehun busies himself with scooping out the last of the milk from the bow and tries not to listen, but it’s hard.  
  
"Can I—Can I come over?" Jongin asks, and his voice cracks; Sehun reaches over the table to slip his small hand into Jongin’s on reflex, just like he would for his Dad.  
  
Jongin blinks, surprised, but after a moment his fingers squeeze Sehun’s gently before loosening to a warm handhold. Sehun wonders where Jongin used to live.  
  
The phone call ends; Sehun’s bowl is empty. He looks over at Dad, but Dad is staring at his cereal bowl, only half finished. "You didn’t eat your cereal," Sehun says, trying not to frown as he takes the bowls and sets them in the sink.  
  
"I’m going to my friend’s then," Jongin says when Sehun turns back, the bowls soaking. "Thank you for. . .everything," he finishes, voice getting smaller as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Sehun stands there, hands still wet from the sink, and feels a swelling sadness in his chest; he blinks because he doesn’t want to cry first thing in the morning, when nothing’s really wrong.  
  
"I’m glad you came home with us," Sehun says, looking up at his Dad who’s looking at the chair where Jongin was sitting.  
  
"Thank you," his Dad says, and smiles at Jongin too. Sehun can tell he means it.  
  
"I’ll leave my number with you?" Jongin says, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he searches for a pen and paper. Sehun gets the notepad from the counter, and Jongin writes very carefully,  
  


_Jongin  
■■■-■■■-■■■■_

  
  
He copies it down once and hands one to each of them. Sehun looks at his Dad, who nods, _it’s okay_ , before he slips the number into his pocket.  
  
Then Dad glances at the clock; Sehun realizes that they’re late and it’s a scramble for boots and raincoats and lunch but Sehun still makes sure to give Jongin a hug before he says good bye.  
  
"See you soon?" he asks, and Jongin hesitates but then he nods, a smile on his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Zitao is back at kindergarten. Sehun spots him from the door and almost forgets to take off his boots, getting his hands wet as he tugs them off so he can run over and give Zitao a huge hug.  
  
"Are you feeling better today?" Sehun asks, and Zitao nods.  
  
"Lots and lots!" he says, grinning. "Guess what?"  
  
"What?" Sehun asks, catching his friend’s excitement as they walk hand in hand toward the story corner with the comfy cushions.  
  
"My Mom got me a puppy!" Zitao says, and Sehun squeaks.  
  
"Is it cute?" he asks, and then snuggles into Zitao as Zitao pulls out an instax to show him. His puppy is soft and fluffy white and yesterday Sehun would have been jealous but today he’s just thinking about Jongin.  
  
"I got a pet too," he says suddenly, because he wants to tell someone about it. Zitao looks at him curiously.  
  
"I thought—," he begins, brow furrowing, but Sehun just keeps talking.  
  
"Well," he admits, "It’s not a dog, really?" Zitao looks confused. "It’s a person and his name is Jongin."  
  
"You got a human dog?" Zitao’s voice is too loud; Sehun pressed his hand over his mouth.  
  
"No!" he says, laughing. "We found him in the rain and Dad said we could take him home."  
  
"That’s kind of strange though," Zitao says, after Sehun pulls his hand away. "What kind of person? Is it like the people who sleep under the bridge?"  
  
Sehun thinks about Jongin, and then he thinks about the people who sleep under the bridge and on the subway benches.  
  
"No," he says, tipping his head to one side as he thinks, "Jongin isn’t old and he has wavy hair like a puppy. He’s kind of cute and he has a nice hug."  
  
"I think I want one," Zitao says, looking thoughtful.  
  
"He went away this morning though," Sehun says, and he feels sad again, squishing more into Zitao’s side as he breathes in the comforting smell. "I wonder what happened to him."  
  
"That’s sad," Zitao says, looking at the instax of his puppy. "Candy better not go anywhere!" He purses his lips in resolve.  
  
"He was crying last night," Sehun says absently, watching as the other kids run around in the playroom.  
  
"Candy cried last night," Zitao offers, but Sehun shakes his head.  
  
"I think it’s different," he says.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain is pouring outside the windows as Sehun waits for Dad to come pick him up. He’s already waved goodbye to Zitao, bouncing along beside his mother and asking about Candy and what they were going to eat for supper. Sehun thinks about the dishes in the sink at home, and waits for Dad to come.  
  
But it keeps getting darker outside and he remembers the other time when Dad didn’t come home. _Did he get sick again?_ Sehun wonders, tangling his fingers together in his pockets as he sits and worries.  
  
Miss Kang comes out with a juice box, apple this time, but Sehun doesn’t want any, standing in the shoe area with his boots on, hands deep in the pockets of his raincoat. He remembers the phantom taste of the orange juice from last time, the taste sour on his tongue. _Is Mr. Byun going to pick me up?_ he wonders.  
  
Sehun glances towards Miss Kang, who smiles at him, but he can see the lines around her eyes. She’s tired, and wants to go home. Sehun feels, suddenly, like a problem.  
  
Everybody’s problem. His eyes are wet and he gulps, swallowing as he reaches up to mop his face with the cold sleeve of his rain coat. Sehun’s just beginning to pull off the sleeve when he hears splashing outside the door, he looks up expecting to see Mr. Byun or maybe _no,_ he tells himself firmly, _don’t hope_ , Dad—  
  
"Jongin?" he says in surprise, blinking the wet out of his eyes. He can hear the kindergarten teacher walking up from behind him, and wonders what’s happening.  
  
"Hi Sehun," Jongin says; his smile is shy but Sehun is just so happy to see him that he doesn’t hesitate, throwing himself at Jongin for a hug, Jongin who kneels down to give him a hug even though Jongin’s jacket is wet and Miss Kang beside him is making confused sounds.  
  
"You came back!" Sehun says, nuzzling into Jongin’s neck even though his skin is cold. Jongin’s arms around him are warm and they shouldn’t feel familiar but they are.  
  
"I came back," Jongin says, giving Sehun a gentle squeeze before he pulls away and straightens. He gives the kindergarten teacher an apologetic look and pulls a cellphone from his pocket, dialing a number and handing it to her. Sehun doesn’t care.  
  
"Is everything okay?" he asks, the happy surprise of seeing Jongin again so soon quickly tempered by worry. "Where’s Dad?"  
  
Miss Kang is talking to someone on the phone but Sehun can’t tell who it is. Jongin turns away from the worker to crouch down at eye level.  
  
"Hi Sehun!" he says. "How was your day?" Sehun feels a smile spreading across his face, despite the fact that Dad isn’t here. Jongin’s smile feels like everything is going to be okay.  
  
"Zitao wasn’t sick today and he got a puppy!" he says, waving his hands happily as he thinks about Zitao’s excited face.  
  
"That’s really nice!" Jongin says, reaching over to ruffle Sehun’s hair. Miss Kang hands his phone back, and Jongin tucks it into his pocket, standing as his hand slips to enfold Sehun’s smaller one.  
  
"Where’s Dad?" Sehun asks again, though he’s not feeling as worried now because Jongin is smiling and Miss Kang is smiling at Jongin and it feels like a good day, even if it’s still raining and Dad isn’t here to smile and pick him up.  
  
"Your Dad said that I could pick you up today," Jongin explains, "He called me and we planned it for a nice surprise since we had to say goodbye so quickly this morning." Sehun thinks for a bit and then nods. _That makes sense._  
  
"So what’s next?" Sehun asks as Jongin grabs his umbrella, unfurling it at the door. "What’s the next part of the surprise."  
  
Jongin checks to make sure that Sehun’s hood is pulled up before swinging the umbrella over the both of them, still holding hands as they venture out into the rainy dusk.  
  
"Now we’ll go home and make supper for your Dad," Jongin says. Sehun swerves to splash in a puddle, and laughs when the water splats everywhere. "Does that sound like fun?"  
  
"Can we make crêpes?" Sehun asks, and Jongin gives him a high five.  
  
"You read my mind," he says. Sehun looks at him and feels happy.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When they get home Jongin keys in the code for the door, barely letting it swing open before Sehun rushes in, kicking off his boots and flinging off his raincoat in excitement, though he doubles back to hang up his raincoat on the hook and set his boots neatly side by side so no one trips, just like Mommy always asked him to.  
  
"You can hang your coat up on that hook," he tells Jongin, and then hands him an extra pair of slippers before heading to the kitchen.  
  
Sehun likes making crêpes, but Dad is usually too tired to wait while all the crêpes cook so they haven’t had them in a while. Jongin laughs when Sehun misses flipping a crêpe because the pan is still a little too heavy for him, so Sehun assigns him to flipping duty while he whisks the lumps out of the batter and sets the table in between.  
  
"What do you usually eat with crêpes?" Jongin asks, giving the crêpe a professional flip as Sehun applauds from the table.  
  
"Ice cream and strawberries!" Sehun exclaims, clapping his hands, before he sighs. "But that’s not very healthy."  
  
"Well," Jongin says, and Sehun watches him with bated breath because Jongin looks like he might be about to—"Today is a surprise so I think ice cream and strawberries are okay for surprises."  
  
Sehun can’t help it, he jumps around in excitement and it’s only a fleeting thought but for a moment he thinks, _it’s like before Mommy died_ , because Jongin isn’t Mommy and Dad is still sad. He feels a frown hovering at the edges of his mouth, but just then Jongin asks him to look if there are any strawberries in the fridge and he mind fills with crêpes and ice cream and strawberries again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The keypad on the door beeps as Jongin is flipping the last crêpe, and Sehun peers around the corner to see Mr. Byun and Dad appear in the door. Mr. Byun waves, holding out a box and Sehun goes over to take it as he carefully examines his Dad’s appearance.  
  
"Hi Mr. Byun," he says, "Hi Dad!" There’s a box in Sehun’s arms but Dad reaches over to give him a hug anyway and his hands that are usually so cold feel a little bit warmer today.  
  
"Zishan made brownies," Mr. Byun says, gesturing towards the box, "so she wanted me to bring some for dessert. Sehun beams, because Mr. Byun’s wife makes the bestest brownies ever.  
  
"Please say thank you to Ms. Yang," he says politely, bowing his head slightly before he takes the box back to the kitchen where Jongin has just set the platter of crêpes on the table.  
  
"Ms. Yang sent brownies!" Jongin looks almost as excited as Sehun feels and Sehun just looks at him and. . .he wants to keep him.  
  
Dad steps into the kitchen and Sehun runs over to get his hello hug, now that his hands are brownie-free.  
  
"Thank you for the surprise!" he says, and Dad smiles back, pressing a kiss to Sehun’s head. "It was a nice surprise, wasn’t it?" he says, glancing over Sehun’s head. Sehun nuzzles into his father’s sweater and just breathes. It smells like home.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They all sit around the table and eat crêpes, and every once in a while, Dad looks over at Sehun and Sehun smiles at him and Dad smiles back and it’s perfect. And then the other times, Sehun looks over to see Jongin smiling at him and he takes a bite of crêpe and ice cream, and gives him the thumbs up. Mr. Byun laughs when he sees the ice cream and crêpes and Sehun is glad they made extra because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone who could fit as much into their mouth as Mr. Byun can. It’s almost like a cartoon.  
  
When they’re done eating, Sehun stands up to start clearing the table, but Mr. Byun coughs and Dad reaches over to lay his arm on Sehun’s shoulder. "Do you want to go take your bath now?" he asks. "It’s late because of the surprise and you have kindergarten tomorrow too."  
  
"But what about the dishes?" Sehun asks, looking at the dirty plates on the table, the forks and knives shining in the glow from the overhead light.  
  
"I’m a very good dish washer," Jongin says, so Sehun nods, pushing his chair in and leaving his dishes on the table.  
  
"Can I use the bubble bath?" he asks, standing just in the hallway.  
  
"Only a cap full, remember? Dad says, and Sehun nods, skipping down the hall to the bathroom. The bubble bath smells like peaches and it’s his favourite.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Sehun’s done with his bath, the bathtub rinses. He has his pajamas on and the towel neatly in the hamper. He’s feeling pretty tired, but rubs his eyes and crawls into Dad’s lap, as Dad wraps his arms around him and Sehun leans back and snuggles. Jongin smiles at him across the table, and Mr. Byun leans forward and folds his hands.  
  
"Sehun," he begins, and Sehun nods his head to show he’s listening, "your Dad is going to be having some appointments every week in the evening but Jongin can pick you up from kindergarten and come home with you until your Dad comes home. Is that okay?" Mr. Byun looks at him across the table. Sehun can feel his Dad stiffening slightly, like he’s worried Sehun will say no, but Sehun doesn’t want to say no at all. He does asks the important question he’s been worrying just a little about.  
  
"Is Dad sick?" he asks. Mr. Byun tips his head, as though he’s trying to think of how to explain, but Dad answers first.  
  
"I’m not sick," he says, running his fingers soothingly along Sehun’s arms, "I’m just a little sad so I’m going to talk to someone so that I don’t feel as sad anymore."  
  
"Are you sad because of me?" Sehun asks, biting his lip, but his father shakes his head; Sehun can’t see it but he can feel the motion.  
  
"No," Dad says reassuringly, "you make me very happy." He presses a kiss to to the top of Sehun’s head and Sehun wraps his father’s arms around him in a hug.  
  
"Okay then," he says, tilting his head up to look at his Dad; Dad smiles down at him. "Thank you," Sehun says, "I’m glad I won’t feel so sad anymore." He thinks about last night, and how it was the first time in a long time that his Dad hadn't cried in the dark. "Thank you," Sehun says, tilting his head back down to look at Jongin, who’s watching him with a small smile on his face, chin tucked in his hands. "This is like the best surprise!"  
  
He laughs, and Jongin laughs, and then Mr. Byun laughs and his laughter makes Dad laugh too and Sehun feels so happy.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongin comes and picks Sehun up twice a week from kindergarten after that; Miss Kang and the other kindergarten workers all smile at  
Jongin, and Sehun looks forward to seeing him just as much as he looks forward to seeing Dad.  
  
Jongin always asks him about his day, waves to Zitao who thinks Jongin is just about the coolest person on earth, and then they’ll maybe stop by the library or the grocery store before they go home and make supper. Sometimes they’ll even go to the florist shop, not to buy anything, but just to look at the flowers. Jongin likes the irises best, and the tiger lilies. Sehun isn't sure what his favourite is, maybe he doesn't have one.  
  
"I just like flowers," he explains to Jongin seriously, and Jongin nods.  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
Sehun smiles up at him and they swing their arms back and forth, hands in the warmth of each other's grasp.  
  
Jongin is really good at cooking, and once Sehun shows him where everything is, he starts to teach Sehun new things so that Sehun can show Dad how to cook on the days when Dad picks him up.  
  
"Who taught you how to cook?" Sehun asks one time, when he’s stirring the cream sauce as Jongin chops up parsley. He’s wondering if Jongin used to cook with his mother or father too, like Sehun. But he’s surprised when Jongin’s smile droops, and he closes his eyes for a second.  
  
"I’m sorry," Sehun says hurriedly, letting the spoon drop as he rushes over to give Jongin a hug. He remembers how Jongin had cried, the first night, and how Sehun had wrapped him up in Mommy’s afghan. He holds Jongin for a while, until Jongin gently pushes him away.  
  
"We need to be careful or the sauce will stick and burn," he explains, and Sehun thinks that maybe Jongin just can’t talk about it.  
  
It’s only later, when they’re setting the table, that Jongin pauses, opening his mouth. The words look like he’s coughing them out. "It was someone I used to love," he says quietly, and shrugs. Sehun reaches over to squeeze Jongin’s hand, and Jongin smiles at him. It’s just a small smile, but it feels okay.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Once in a while, when Dad comes home late, Jongin stays over, sleeping in Sehun’s room and Sehun goes to sleep with Dad, and those are Sehun’s favourite mornings, waking up to Jongin bustling around the kitchen he’s so familiar with, as Dad yawns and sighs and Sehun has fun tickling him awake.  
  
Jongin starts to bring along a few extra clothes so that he can change into them, and Sehun makes an extra space in his closet, putting some of Mom’s stuff away in boxes.  
  
He always wants to ask why Jongin can’t just stay with them, why can’t he just have Sehun’s room and Sehun can sleep with Dad and it would be perfect, but he doesn’t want to hear why it can’t work, so he doesn’t ask.  
  
"How’s your dad doing lately?" Jongin asks, handing Sehun vegetables to put away in the crisper.  
  
"He smiles more," Sehun says, putting the milk away on the shelf. "And he started putting some of Mommy’s clothes into a box." He feels sad, putting her things away, but they’re just things. The important ones, like the afghan, are there for keeps.  
  
"And how are you?" Jongin asks. Sehun just sticks out his tongue and jumps on Jongin’s shoulders, demanding a piggy back ride around the house until Jongin is out of breath and Sehun’s chest hurts from laughing.  
  
"Where do you live?" he asks Jongin, later when they have their breath back, standing by the counter as Jongin chops onions and Sehun presses garlic through the garlic press.  
  
"I stay with two of my friends in their apartment," Jongin says, scooping the onions up with the knife and letting them cascade down over the oil in the pan as it sizzles. It sounds yummy already, and Sehun can hear his tummy rumble.  
  
"Isn’t that squishy?" he asks, wrinkling his forehead in concern as he hands Jongin the pressed garlic.  
  
"We make it work," Jongin says, adding the garlic to the pan and turning down the flame. Sehun thinks about all the extra space in their house and frowns. He wants Jongin to stay but he doesn’t know how to ask.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They have to draw a picture of their family in kindergarten; Sehun chooses his colours carefully, drawing the outlines first and then colouring them in with crayon.  
  
_Dad, Mommy, Jongin and me._  
  
He’s too excited to tuck it away in his backpack, impatient to show it to Jongin as soon as he comes through the door. It’s not raining today, Sehun notices absently, and Jongin isn’t carrying an umbrella.  
  
"Look what I drew!" Sehun exclaims, and holds the brightly coloured drawing up so Jongin can see it. He’s surprised when Jongin takes a deep shuddering breath, blinking as his tears look suspiciously wet.  
  
"You don’t like it?" Sehun asks quietly, ready to take the paper back and throw it away, he’s so disappointed because he thought—  
  
"It’s perfect," Jongin says, and his eyes are wet but when he smiles at Sehun and bends down to pick him up in a huge hug, Sehun wraps his arms around Jongin and holds on tightly.  
  
He’s just as excited to show Dad when he hears the sound of the keypad at the door, taking the picture off the fridge and running to the door, the paper flapping in his hands.  
  
"Look Dad!" he says excitedly. "I drew our family in kindergarten today!" His father reaches for the picture as he slips out of his shoes and into his slippers, and Sehun watches as he swallows, eyes misting over before he reaches over to enfold Sehun in a hug.  
  
"This is our family, isn’t it," he murmurs into Sehun’s hair, and Sehun nods enthusiastically, picture held safely in his grasp as Dad carries him on his hip down the hall to the kitchen. The food is waiting on the table and Jongin is just drying his hands on the towel.  
  
"Sehun and I made pizza," Jongin says, smiling as they all slip into their seats and Jongin reaches over to start cutting the pizza.  
  
"Jongin says next time he stays over for night we can make bread!" Sehun adds excitedly, and reaches for the first piece.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
His picture of their family is hanging on the fridge; Sehun sits back on his chair, knees pulled up to his chin and smiles.  
  
"I was thinking," Dad begins, leaning forward a little in his chair as he looks at Sehun and then at Jongin, "Jongin, I know you’re staying with your friends, but it sounds pretty tight and Sehun and I have a lot of space here—"  
  
  
He pauses, and Sehun holds his breath, fingers knotting in the fabric of his shirt. _Please ask_ , he thinks, _please ask_. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest; he glances over at Jongin who has a blank expression on his face, as though he’s trying to hide his emotions.  
  
"You have a lot of things here already and Sehun’s room is almost your room," Dad says in a rush, like he’s been thinking about it for a long time and he’s afraid if he doesn’t say it all at once, it’ll get stuck in his chest. Sehun knows how that feels, because it happens to him too sometimes.  
  
"Do you want to move in with us?" Dad finally asks, and now that the question’s been asked, Sehun chimes along.  
  
"Please," he says, looking at Jongin beseechingly. "Please stay with us." He tries not to but he can’t help it, climbing off his chair to round the table and press his face into Jongin’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around his neck. Jongin feels stiff at first, but his muscles gradually loosen and he breathes out quietly.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asks. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"  
  
"Yes," Dad and Sehun say at the same time, Dad’s voice firm and Sehun talking into Jongin’s shirt.  
  
"Don’t say no," Sehun adds, waiting for Jongin’s answer.  
  
"Yes," Jongin says quietly, and wraps his arms around Sehun, returning the hug. "I’ll stay."  
  
Sehun feels tears bud in his eyes and he wipes them on Jongin’s shirt before pulling back just enough so he can see Jongin’s face. Jongin’s eyes are wet too, and Sehun wipes them away with his small fingers.  
  
"Thank you," Sehun says, and gives Jongin another hug.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After the dishes are washed, the food put away, and Sehun has had his bath, they sit around the kitchen table with the hot cocoa Jongin has made, the kind with the mini marshmallows on top that are Sehun’s favourite, and start putting a puzzle together.  
  
Mommy always liked puzzles, and this one was her favourite. It’s ten thousand pieces, all in strange shapes, and it’s not the kind of puzzle that you can finish in one day. Sehun and his father haven’t put together a puzzle since the last one the three of them did together, but now Jongin is here and Sehun knows they’ll have so many more days to finish the puzzle together.  
  
"I need a red piece with a green bit," Dad says; Sehun looks at his pieces but he can’t spot the right one—  
  
"Found it!" Jongin calls, his voice coloured with excitement, and passes the piece over where it fits into the empty spot perfectly.  
  
They all applaud, laughing, before they start again. Sehun glances out the kitchen window; it’s dark outside, the sun almost set so that the sky's a deep rusty orange fading to blue. There aren’t any clouds; the rainy season is over now and the leaves on the tree outside the window shine in the light of the streetlamp, barely moving.  
  
Sehun turns back to the table and looks at Dad laughing, the light of the lamp gold on his face, Jongin taking a sip of hot chocolate as he examines the pieces; this is his family. He smiles, the happiness warm in his chest as he starts searching for another colour.  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This story was briefly inspired by the film [Be with You](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Be_with_You_\(film\)).  
> Due to the nature of the narration of this story, I wasn’t able to dig more deeply into Jongin’s past in particular, which I apologize for. The following small stories in this series will attempt to rectify this.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://yifantasy.livejournal.com/19354.html) for round one of the [Yifantasy](http://yifantasy.livejournal.com) fest.


End file.
